


we have been here before

by seungsiks (galacticnik)



Category: UP10TION
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Getting Back Together, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Break Up, other Up10tion members make an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25792873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticnik/pseuds/seungsiks
Summary: Wooseok has some issues being 'just friends' with his ex-boyfriend.Mainly, the issue is that he's still in love with Lee Jinhyuk.
Relationships: Kim Wooseok | Wooshin/Lee Jinhyuk
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	we have been here before

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to go ahead and yeet this into the world. please forgive any typos/mistakes.

One of the shitty things about being friends with your ex is that you’re obligated to show up to milestone events like birthdays and weddings, ready to grin and bear it even though you’d rather be doing anything but. 

Rooted to the spot outside the bar Yein texted him the address of earlier, Wooseok really wishes he’d cut off all contact with Jinhyuk after their break up two years ago. But he didn’t, because being Jinhyuk’s friend was better than being nothing. 

Except it hits home on occasions like these that he still doesn’t know how to navigate friendship with the one-time love of his life. How do you revert back to friendship after getting a taste of something much sweeter?

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Wooseok pushes the door open and walks in. 

He’ll just have to figure it out, won’t he?

* * *

Jinhyuk doesn’t drink. 

He’s the only person at the table not nursing a beer or a glass of soju. Wooseok knows from experience that the drink in front of him is cider. Jinhyuk is in deep conversation with Yein when Wooseok slides into the seat beside Minsoo at the opposite end of the table and immediately reaches for a drink menu. 

“Tough day?” Minsoo asks sympathetically, and Wooseok forces a smile. 

“Something like it. Work is a pain.” 

Minsoo pats him on the back in silent understanding. 

He could’ve skipped Jinhyuk’s birthday this year, he reflects moments later, nursing his own glass of soju. Used work as an excuse—it wouldn’t even have been a lie, since his boss is intent on working him to the bone. Everyone would have understood.

Jinhyuk raises his head and meets Wooseok’s eyes, his face blossoming into a radiant smile. “Wooseok! Thanks for coming. I’m glad you could make it.”

 _Ah_ , he thinks. That’s why he had to show up. To catch a glimpse of that expression, if only for a moment. Two years, and he’s still desperately seeking Jinhyuk’s warmth. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he says evenly, and Jinhyuk beams. Pulling an envelope out of his briefcase, he slides it across the table towards Jinhyuk. “Happy birthday.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” In spite of his words, Jinhyuk tears into the envelope with barely disguised glee. Wooseok winces, praying he doesn’t accidentally rip its contents. “A spa voucher?” Jinhyuk squints down at it before glancing at Wooseok questioningly. 

“For you and your girlfriend.”

Something flickers behind Jinhyuk’s eyes. He smiles, a little woodenly, and carefully tucks the voucher into the pocket of his jacket. “How thoughtful of you, Wooseok. Thanks.”

Across the table, Yein throws him a sharp look, then narrows his eyes at Jinhyuk, who deftly avoids meeting them and instead draws Minsoo into a conversation about a drama they’re both following. 

Wooseok takes a sip of soju and begins counting down the moments until he can leave. 

* * *

An hour later, most of his friends are drunk and rowdy, too wrapped up in celebrating to notice Wooseok duck outside. He’ll apologize for leaving early tomorrow, he resolves. Maybe he can cite a headache. It wouldn’t be a lie, exactly. The day’s fatigue has begun to wash over him, and the growing ache in his temples is only the start of the worst of it. 

His fingers twitch as he waits for a cab. The weather is unseasonably warm; loosening the tie around his neck, he takes in a lungful of warm air and closes his eyes. 

“You don’t smoke anymore?”

Wooseok turns to see Jinhyuk emerge from the bar, his hair tousled and expression guarded. His hands are shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched as if he’s bracing himself for something. 

“It was a nasty habit,” Wooseok says, forcing his fingers to still. “I quit.”

“Good.”

“Why aren’t you in there?” he asks, jerking his chin towards the bar. Jinhyuk had been in the bathroom when Wooseok slipped out, and he’d naively hoped he wouldn’t notice his absence. 

“I just wanted some fresh air.” Jinhyuk comes to stand beside Wooseok and tips his head back to study the stars overhead. “Thanks for coming,” he says after a short pause. 

“You already said that.” 

“I know.” Jinhyuk glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “I felt like I needed to express it again. I’m never sure if you’ll actually show up when I’m there.” 

He doesn’t say it to be mean. Wooseok is almost positive about that. Even so, it hurts. “What kind of friend would I be if I skipped out on your birthday celebration?” he says, irritation bleeding into his voice. 

Jinhyuk falls silent. He makes no move to return to his boisterous birthday party at the bar, just stands there with his eyes trained on the sky. They’re outside, but the atmosphere is suddenly stifling. Wooseok checks the app on his phone; the taxi is still a ways away. 

When he looks back up, Jinhyuk’s gaze has shifted to him, wistful and probing. “Do you ever regret it?” he asks softly. 

“What?”

“Agreeing to be friends with me after we…” Jinhyuk swallows and doesn’t finish his sentence. Wooseok understands, regardless. 

He wishes he could lie, wishes he were better at hiding his true feelings around Jinhyuk. “I don’t know,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek. His throat itches, wanting to be honest. “Sometimes it’s hard to be around you when my feelings still aren’t entirely platonic.” 

There’s a moment of silence where Wooseok could take it back and pretend he hasn’t sent shockwaves through their fragile friendship, but then Jinhyuk chuckles uncomfortably and asks, “Were—were you drinking?”

“Yes, but.” His mouth is dry. “Not enough that I’m not aware of what I’m saying.” 

The chuckle dies on his lips, and Jinhyuk visibly wilts. “Sorry. I wish things hadn’t—“ He sighs and runs a trembling hand through his hair. “I wish we were still—“

“Don’t finish that thought.” Wooseok is desperate for a smoke now, and has to pinch the inside of his arm to keep his thoughts away from unhealthy coping mechanisms. “Your girlfriend would be sad.” 

Jinhyuk lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t have one,” he admits plainly. “I haven’t dated anyone since you. I just never felt like it.”

It takes a moment for his words to register. Wooseok’s mind stubbornly refuses to believe what he’s just heard, but there’s no deception on Jinhyuk’s face, just quiet resignation. “But at Hwanhee’s birthday party, you said—“ 

“ _Well_.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Jinhyuk looks away. “I just didn’t want you to think I hadn’t moved on.” His ears are red. “I didn’t want you to feel bad.”

Wooseok wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. _I didn’t want you to feel bad_. But even if he’d known Jinhyuk was single, what would that have changed? Their relationship _still_ failed. They’re _still_ friends. Wooseok is _still_ half in love with Jinhyuk, but the other half still knows that this isn’t a road they should take again. 

“You’re an idiot,” he says anyway, because Jinhyuk is waiting, because he needs to break the silence before it can twist into something else, something tender and longing. “You should’ve just been honest.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jinhyuk concedes easily. He exhales. The space between them is both vast and infinitesimal. Wooseok wants to widen the gap with one heartbeat, and bridge it with the next. “I never understood it, you know?” Jinhyuk continues. His eyes slide back to Wooseok’s face, holding him in place. “Why we broke up. I’d go over it again and again in my head, wondering what I’d done to fuck it up that badly.” 

“You didn’t do— _you_ didn’t do anything. It just happened.” He doesn’t know how to explain, but Wooseok knows it wasn’t entirely Jinhyuk’s fault. 

He still looks dubious. “Every time I wanted to run back to you, I told myself that we could never move forward if I didn’t figure out what went wrong because it’d just happen _again_ and I—“ Jinhyuk breaks off, shakes his head. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship for that.”

Wooseok should, perhaps, commend Jinhyuk for wanting to hold onto whatever relationship they’d managed to retain even after their break up, but his words just piss him off. “I never pegged you for a coward,” he says coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Jinhyuk doesn’t take the bait. “I didn’t either,” he says. “But I guess… _yeah_ , I am a coward. Otherwise I would’ve taken a leap of faith by now instead of whatever the fuck we’re doing.” His eyes soften. “I’ve never forgotten what it feels like to love you.”

This is not the kind of curbside conversation Wooseok is equipped to handle. His phone beeps, alerting him to the fact that his taxi is almost here, but he ignores it. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks finally. 

“It’s my birthday,” Jinhyuk smiles sadly. He takes a step back; it feels like a defeat of some kind. “I deserve to be a little selfish.”

“I don’t know if you do.” The taxi arrives before he can say anything else. Wooseok’s hand wraps around the handle of the door; yanking it open with unnecessary force, he looks back at Jinhyuk over his shoulder. 

The sickly yellow light from the street lamp washes over him, dyeing him golden. From here, he looks—faded, a relic of an older time. Wooseok has so many regrets wrapped up in one person. They push against him, driving him further into the car and away from Jinhyuk. 

“You should go back inside,” Wooseok says eventually. “Don’t miss your own birthday party.” Without waiting for a response, he slams the door shut and gives the driver his address. 

The last thing he sees before the taxi speeds away is Jinhyuk, alone on the sidewalk, unmoving, his head tilted back as he looks up, refusing to watch Wooseok leave. 

* * *

It bothers him later. Jinhyuk’s selfish honesty, Wooseok’s inability to respond, admissions that come too late to make a difference, too late to really matter. If Jinhyuk didn’t stop loving him, then they shouldn’t have broken up in the first place. Though Wooseok can’t even remember why their relationship originally ended. Or he _can_ , but it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

It was the little things piling up: arguing all the time, sniping at each other, finding excuses to spend time apart. Work was stressful for the both of them; they’d unfairly taken it out on each other until days off began to feel like a chore. And then Wooseok said, _I’m tired_ , one night over dinner. 

He meant, _tired of being like this, can’t we try to change?_

But Jinhyuk heard it as _tired of you_ and said, _I’m sorry_ , gutted to the core. They sat in silence for a while before he added, _Sometimes I’m tired too._

The conversation fizzled out there. Less than a week later, Jinhyuk packed up his things and moved out without a word. It took over three months for Yein to mediate a reconciliation between the two of them. It was stilted and awkward at first, Wooseok too bitter over his broken heart to make a sincere attempt at ‘friendship’, but he eventually decided that if this was all he had to hold onto, he was going to become the best friend Jinhyuk’s ever had. 

Wooseok can’t remember a time in his life where Jinhyuk wasn’t in it—any meaningful memory he has includes him in some way. He’s not sure if he wants to get used to the opposite. 

But friendship’s easier in theory than in practice, especially since Wooseok never stopped loving him. He can’t simply transform one kind of feeling into another. With Jinhyuk’s confession throwing him into a disarray, he doesn’t know if he even wants to. It should be a simple thing to take it at face value and say, _once more. Let’s do this once more._

But he’s scared of trying again and things ending the same. He’s unsatisfied with remaining the way they are right now. In the end, Wooseok just doesn’t know what to do. 

* * *

A week passes before Jinhyuk texts him out of the blue, asking if he’s free after work— _want to grab a coffee?_ The underlying message to his text is easy to pick out. _We should talk._ Wooseok says _yes_ , because they do need to have a long overdue conversation. 

When he arrives at the shop Jinhyuk sent the address of earlier, he finds Jinhyuk sitting at a table by the window with a glass of water and a slice of cake in front of him. Wooseok orders a cup of coffee for himself before heading over and dropping into the seat across from him. 

“Hi,” Jinhyuk says, fiddling with the paper napkin, averting his eyes from Wooseok’s face.

“Hey.” Wooseok takes a small, careful sip of his coffee. “How’s it going?” 

“Yein said I should apologize to you,” Jinhyuk blurts out, without preamble, then seems to reconsider. “I _do_ need to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have said what I said on my birthday.” There’s no doubt about what he’s referring to. “I can’t even lie and say I was drunk because—well, you know. I guess I just wanted to be mean, in that moment.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” If anything, Wooseok thinks he should be saying sorry. He was honest first, without giving thought to the consequences. 

Jinhyuk smiles wryly and picks at his slice of cake. “I think I really do.” He looks up and brings a forkful to his mouth. “I got carried away by the fact that you were _there_ and seemed perfectly okay with me having a girlfriend. I mean, I _thought_ I wanted you to be, but it still felt crappy. And then you admitted you weren’t okay and I…” 

“Blurted out the truth?”

“Look,” Jinhyuk begins heavily. “There’s some stuff we just don’t talk about, right? I know that. If we want to be friends, I know we just have to let things go sometimes. So if you want to let this go—pretend I never said anything, that’s fine.” 

_If they want to preserve what they have…_ Wooseok’s aware Jinhyuk is giving him a glaringly obvious out, but he doesn’t want to take it. Couldn’t, he reflects, even if he made up his mind to. His mouth won’t cooperate. “I don’t want to pretend,” he says. Jinhyuk’s eyes widen. “Pretending won’t do anything.” 

“Then what do you—“

“Why did you leave?” he cuts in. Jinhyuk’s brows furrow in confusion. Gripping his coffee cup between both hands, Wooseok sucks in a breath before continuing. He’s tired of this being something they don’t talk about to keep the peace. “When we broke up. Why did you walk out?”

“I thought you _wanted_ me to,” Jinhyuk says slowly. “I thought you were sick of me. Of us being at each other’s throats all the time.”

Of course. Wooseok lets out a humourless laugh. _Of course_ Jinhyuk would read too much into it. Of course he would try to be stupidly considerate of Wooseok’s feelings at the expense of his own. “You’re so… troublesome,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes. Then, louder, “I just wanted some time to reset a bit, rest then talk things out. I didn’t want us to fall apart.”

“Oh.” Jinhyuk’s back is stiff, straight as a board. His eyes dart around nervously before settling on Wooseok. There’s a fragility to his gaze, like it—and Jinhyuk—could crack open with one word. “Why—why didn’t you say something?”

When Yein first approached Wooseok to try and get the two of them back on speaking terms, it’d been an olive branch from Jinhyuk—he was the one who begged Yein to be their go between, he was the one who wanted to keep Wooseok in his life somehow first. Wooseok kept quiet and went along with the flow, feeling like he should be grateful for whatever was offered. 

He doesn’t want to keep quiet now. “I was scared,” he says. Jinhyuk’s eyes soften, silently saying, me too. “I thought you’d already fallen out of love with me, so I didn’t want to push for more and risk losing you completely. I thought ‘friends’ was better than nothing.” 

“You—”

“But I don’t think friendship is working for me anymore,” Wooseok says firmly. 

Silence descends, and then Jinhyuk’s expression crumples, his eyes squeezing shut. “I see,” he says wearily. 

“I’m still scared,” Wooseok continues. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes. I don’t want us to end the way we did before. But I also can’t do _this_.” He gestures to the space between them, to the two years they’ve spent pretending like they’re alright with the way things are. “When I thought I was the only one with feelings, I was okay. Now, though…”

Jinhyuk’s eyes fly open. 

“I can’t… fully promise anything, but I feel like I’ve learned a lot in recent years. I’ll do better. So if you want—”

Before he can finish, Jinhyuk reaches across the table to take Wooseok’s hands in his. He’s warm and steady and sure, and god, it’s so nostalgic he wants to cry. How long has it been since Jinhyuk’s touched him? “Can we give it another shot?” Jinhyuk asks, his mouth stretching into a bright, slightly incredulous smile. 

Wooseok frowns. “That’s my line.” 

“I like the way you pout when I steal your thunder.” It’s funny how Jinhyuk can slip back into old roles so easily, gently and lovingly teasing Wooseok until he coaxes an answering smile out of him. Maybe it’s not Jinhyuk’s teasing so much as him in general. _Them_. New beginnings for old lovers. Wooseok didn’t think they’d ever get here. Neither, he thinks, can he imagine anything different. 

“You like everything I do.”

“Isn’t that a little egotistical?”

Raising an eyebrow, Wooseok says, “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jinhyuk’s grin widens as he intertwines his fingers with Wooseok’s hand gives his hand a tight squeeze. It’s almost bruising, crushing, but Wooseok doesn’t cry out because he knows what Jinhyuk is trying to convey—that he doesn’t want to let go again. And that’s fine; Wooseok doesn’t either. “I love you.” 

Heat rises to his cheeks. “I didn’t ask that.”

“I know,” Jinhyuk replies. “But I love you. I never stopped.”

“I love you too.” This time, Wooseok promises, it’ll be enough. He doesn’t want to return to the status quo of the past two years, and it drives him forward. This time, they’ll make it. 

* * *

* * *

* * *

At Jinhyuk’s birthday gathering the following year, Wooseok sits beside Jinhyuk, their legs tangled together under the table, Jinhyuk’s fingers lazily tracing characters into Wooseok’s thigh. He grins mischievously when Wooseok shoots him a glare, but doesn’t let up.

“I was worried you were going to age prematurely,” Yein pipes up after a while, when Jinhyuk’s attention is elsewhere. Wooseok turns to him in surprise, his brows arched. “Happiness is a good look on you.” 

“ _Jinhyuk_ is a good look on you,” Minsoo snickers. 

Wooseok sneaks a glance at Jinhyuk, his head thrown back as he laughs at something Sooil said. His lips twitch into a small, private smile. “Same thing, right?” he says. 

Both Minsoo and Yein are rendered speechless. Then—“I want a girlfriend,” Minsoo says miserably, and Yein pats him on the back. 

Wooseok leans over and presses a kiss to Jinhyuk’s cheek, much to the shock of everyone around the table. Maybe he’s just rubbing it in, but—

Jinhyuk flushes and says, “That’s all?” before pulling him for a proper kiss. Minsoo groans, Yein chuckles, Changhyun rolls his eyes, and Wooseok just laughs against Jinhyuk’s mouth, happy and content. 

_Yeah_ , he thinks. Happiness and Jinhyuk—they’re both good for him.

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this in... april, maybe? then forgot about it and only recently decided to finish it up. i just really, really like post break up fics and i miss weishin, so here we are.
> 
> anyway! thank you for reading ♥


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